he found you on a glass floor bleeding diamonds
by ezyl
Summary: Fuji Syuusuke didn't know that he could bleed diamonds, either. Written for finding.


_Fic written for the Pointless but Original Talking Forum Holiday Fic Exchange._

**Request Number**: 05  
**Pairing/Groups**: FujiRyo; TezuFuji; AtoRyo; ToFu; Smiling; OT3; actually, most Seigaku/Hyotei/cross pairings are love.  
**Squicks**: M-preg; bad characterization; overly unrealistic plot devices  
**Request**: Well-written angst; humor; a piece of writing that flows smoothly; PARODIES; anything really, as long as there's thought put into it. 8)  
Gen/Het/Slash/Smut/None/All-of-the-above?: Y/Y/Y/not too graphic though. Anything goes!  
Request: AU/OU is okay. Also, because I am terrible at these specifics, here's a prompt or four to pick/get ideas from (or you could pick more than one to weave into your fic!).  
_i. last night I had a dream about you  
ii. slipping  
iii. it takes time to realize  
iv. city lights  
_I hope they weren't too disgusting ;3;  
**Notes**: Thanks for writing! I'd love whatever you write, really |D

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**Title**: he found you on a glass floor bleeding diamonds**  
Pairings**: mainly TeFu with snippets of AtoRyo, ToFu, FujiRyo. oh and some het.**  
Rating**: T (PG-13)**  
Warnings**: attempted angst, cameos and various j-pop referencing, crazy stuff is crazy, girigiri-ing, Roppongi, pornish writing that does not contain actual porn, lalalala profanity!**  
Summary**: Fuji Syuusuke didn't know that he could bleed diamonds, either.**  
Beta**: Much thanks to the lovely wise_stupidity.  
**A**/**N**/**Message** **to** **receiver**: You wanted 'well-written angst' and I totally just went like o_o. XD Hope you can spot all your prompts in there, somewhere (though the interpretations are probably not as conventional as they should be). Have a happy New Year, Melo! Please enjoy.

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_he found you on a glass floor bleeding diamonds._

_-_H-_  
_

There was a scene in some movie, he remembers, about some college girl who avoided her studies by trying to chase her true love out of her life with a ballpoint-pen and a stack of notebook paper, and fifty-three minutes later she ends the day crying on the couch of her best friend's fiancé, a man whom she thought she hated, clutching the letter that she had written fifty-three minutes earlier and bawling her eyes out because her letter had been a piece of wide-ruled paper filled to the end of each line with beautiful, beautiful lies.

"I suppose I could tell you."

"No, you suppose not."

"But, Fuji—I—"

And then the girl, he remembers, has some steamy affair with her true love's best friend who kissed the woman who worked in the same bar as the boy who was her first love –it was so convoluted, these stories about "love", especially when what they're doing doesn't even make any sense– and the two finish off by cooking spaghetti together _al dente_, for a homeless shelter. (And the moral of the story is that Fuji is never going out to see a movie with Oshitari, ever again.)

"I kissed him," Fuji Syuusuke says, and that's probably how it all begins. "I kissed him, you know."

Tezuka stares at him, expression either blank or shocked (it's hard to tell). "Who? What? Who did you kiss?"

Fuji adjusts his grip on the wooden chopsticks before they snap and picks up another piece of spicy salmon roll, dipping it in the wasabi dish. It slips from his chopsticks before it reaches his mouth. "Never you mind, Kunimitsu. I kissed him, that's all. Now eat your sushi before it gets cold, ne."

"Sushi does not start out warm, Fuji," Tezuka says, and Fuji can feel the glasses on his boyfriend's face glint in the poor lighting of the sushi bar.

"Oh, but that's not the issue right now, is it?" Fuji smiles politely before he takes a shot of whiskey, "I just kissed someone behind your back, right?"

Tezuka's glasses glint again as he raises the water glass to his lips (Fuji wishes that it would stop flashing in his direction because it is just as unnerving as a police car's searchlight). His boyfriend wrinkles his nose. "Fuji, stop drinking that. You're not driving home, are you?"

"Shut up."

He can feel Tezuka's eyes narrow; it's only a matter of time now. And it just makes him want to laugh again, egg him on a little more. "I don't understand, Fuji."

"There's nothing to understand. You're being dumped." He takes another try at the spicy salmon, but it slips from his chopsticks again. His hands aren't even shaking. He keeps his eyes averted when he feels one last glint from Tezuka's direction before the man stands up and exits through the front door.

"I kissed him," he whispers to himself, and when Eiji arrives and refills Tezuka's vacated seat, he grabs the shorter boy's shirt collar to make that lie a truth.

"Why didn't you just tell him, Fujiko?" His friend asks after wiping his lips clean with a paper napkin, "It shouldn't have to be so painful to lie to him like that. And don't tell me it didn't hurt. It's written all over your face. _Stop_ smiling!"

He ignores Eiji for the moment and flashes the waitress a quick smile, asking for new pair of chopsticks, and tries again to pick up his slipping spicy salmon. "It's better to create a misunderstanding, though, ne," He says, and the piece of sushi slips from his chopsticks like a slippery fish. "I could tell from his expression. He was going to tell me his own truth, anyway. And we both know it would've hurt him more if he had actually followed through."

"You care too much for Tezuka."

"We never should have gone this far."

Kikumaru sighs, and (for once) his eyes aren't sparkling. "Fujiko, you're not...going to back to work at _that_ place, are you?"

Fuji shrugs. "The pay's good. I don't have many options at the moment."

"Go easy on the alcohol, Fujiko."

"I'm leaving you with the bill, Eiji," Fuji says, and he pats his friend on the back with a laugh. "Take care."

I _should be saying that to _you_,_ Kikumaru thinks grumpily, before pulling out his credit card with a frown. "Oi! Since when have you been taking lessons from Momo? I'm nearly broke this month."

"Come work with me, then," Fuji says before the door of the sushi bar shuts behind him. "The girls will love you," He adds under his breath, before he realizes how hateful he sounds.

It starts to snow.

The younger sister of the girl married her true love at the end of the movie. It was better this way, he remembers thinking. Better for all of them. She hadn't been able to love him, her stepmother was against it. Yuushi had shouted at the theater managers for ruining a perfect movie-going experience.

But it was okay, he remembers thinking to himself on the Shinkansen line back to DION that day, it was okay because a story couldn't be perfect without a few lies.

-H-

Fuji picks up on the first ring.

"Can we talk?" A unfamiliar female voice asks.

"May I ask for your name?" He cradles the phone in one hand and reaches into the fridge for the jar of pickled radishes.

"Yamada. I am from the—"

Yamada? He doesn't know of any Yamada. "I apologize, I'm not interested in buying anything," he says quickly, and hangs up with a sigh. These days, it's only the telemarketers who would want to call him at all.

He wonders if he should have talked to the woman for a little longer.

-H-

Their kisses are fierce, wild and almost desperate from the angle that lined up with the empty doors on the other side of the hall. The man holds his lover in the classic grip, one hand wrapped behind the boy's head, the other supporting his waist. Fingers trail down at a position exactly two centimeters above a glittery belt buckle, caress a bit of exposed skin to draw out moans. They maneuver themselves across the quiet lobby and towards the elevator—the hand supporting the head reaches forward and expertly stabs the "up" button. The boy lets out a demanding groan when lips reach his neck; his hands are already pawing the buttons on the man's expensive fur coat. This one sounds rather different from the previous ones, though; his voice has a growly, rather arrogant texture to it. The man wearing the expensive fur coat is only half a step in front of him—he's reading the signs a little slower than he usually is, and today he only manages to catch one of the boy's hands and hold it in place. Their fingers lace together.

The elevator doors slide open.

Fuji sees them from the other side of the lobby—his eyes open wide for a second before he understands what he's seeing and then he's laughing quietly to himself. _Haven't seen Atobe fight this hard for control in a while._

The minute the doors are about to close, he strides forward and extends an arm to catch the button. A change in pace wouldn't be so bad.

And all the way to the top floor of Shinjuku's most prestigious international hotel, Fuji Syuusuke could have been a potted plant standing in the corner of the elevator for all the kissing couple gave a shit.

(He doesn't sleep that night.)

-H-

Fuji picks up on the fourth ring.

"It's Yamada. I'll only take five minutes of your time, I promise. See, my clock says it's eight fifty-five right now. I'll hang up at nine 'o-clock, exactly."

"How do you remember calling this number?" Fuji asks, because he's pretty sure that the telemarketing company does not like to have their customers listen to the same voice every day, and this woman clearly recalls having given her name here the last time she telephoned him, three days ago.

"I have a good memory," Yamada replies cheerfully, "And I actually got this number off my boyfriend's cell phone. So it'll only take five minutes. Please!"

She must meet so many people like Fuji, people who do not wish to be introduced to new products over the phone and hang up on her the minute she opens her mouth. And to be able to remain cheerful for so long takes more than the regular strain of patience. He decides to hold onto the receiver for a little longer. He's had plenty of rude people come by at his work place and it's the least he can do. "Are you sure that this is only going to take five minutes?"

"Positive. I have a date with my boyfriend in five minutes," the woman says, and Fuji can almost feel her face bubble up in excitement on the other side. "I thought I saw him at the jewelry shop by the DION club in the Ginza yesterday and I think we're going to be engaged!"

Fuji swallows sharply at her words. The DION in the Ginza? She must have gotten it wrong. There's only one DION in the world, and it certainly had no place in Tokyo's finest pleasure district. He puts the phone on speaker and pads toward the kitchen in his slippers. "An engagement, ne. Th-That's—well, congratulations."

"Thank you! He's taking me to see a movie, I think. And afterward we're going to a sushi bar. I keep telling him to bring more than three-thousand yen, but he's probably not going to listen to me and I'm going to end up with the bill. Ku-chan can be so frustrating sometimes."

"Ku-chan?" Fuji asks as he switches on the lights in the kitchen and fills the kettle on the stove, "Is that your boyfriend's name?"

"Y-Yes," Yamada says, suddenly sounding very shy, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to start throwing unfamiliar names at you."

"It's okay. Do you like sushi?"

"I, well..." the girl mumbles on the other side, "Not really. It all tastes the same to me. I mean, I like going to sushi bars, though, because I can have a lot of fun with Ku-chan there."

"Well, if Yamada-san likes sushi bars, it won't matter that much, right?" Fuji asks, setting the heat on the burner to high, "as long as you enjoy yourself with your boyfriend, it won't matter who pays the bill. Happiness is a bill that many people would like to pay for, ne."

Yamada laughs on the other side, "I guess you're right. I won't worry about it next time. You're good at this."

Fuji can feel her smile from the other end of the line. "I'm glad."

"Oops! I apologize. I should be talking to you about the Nakata Insurance plan. I'm sorry I got so off-track. We only have two minutes left!"

"It's fine," Fuji laughs into the phone, and to be perfectly honest, he hasn't enjoyed a conversation like this for a really long time.

-T-

Ryoma has a weird expression on his face in the morning, after the first time they spend the night together.

"What's wrong?" Fuji asks with a small smile, kissing the boy lightly on the shoulder.

"I was..."

"What? You were what, hanging in the corner with your five best friends?"

Ryoma frowns, "What? No."

"Ryo-ma-kun," he says in a sing-song voice, "What's up?"

"I-I—last night. I had a dream about you when I fell asleep. You were crying and I really wanted to help you."

The room is silent for a beat. Fuji takes the glass of brandy from the dresser and brings it to his mouth.

"Did I look very pitiful crying, Ryoma-kun?" Fuji asks, his voice soft, "Is that why you wanted to help me?"

"No, never," the boy shakes his head quickly, "You don't look pitiful at all."

"Because," Fuji pats Echizen on the head, "You can leave right now, if you ever decide that."

-T-

The nights he spend in Roppongi are like little bits of dark-colored sponge soaking up the shining dots of light in the city. The streets leading to Club DION look as lively as ever, lit up in a blaze of lanterns and streetlights and police sirens. The young men perched on the street corners wave at him when he passes. They're all eager for the night to begin.

City lights are really rather bland for him. The wealthy riding in their helicopters might rave all about it, how majestic they feel living at the top of the skyline, but it's absolutely nothing compared to the experience from the bottom. The city lights that shine down in front of him, in front of Roppongi's DION, are lights that expose an underside of the society that those helicopters and their expensive guests will never suspect. Down here, the lights of the city don't belong to any network of blinking traffic signals and blinking shop displays. They are individually-special, shining differently in every place.

But more importantly, these lights illuminate the members of the DION club every night. These boys hail from Roppongi's finest—they are all freshly shaven, hair bleached and spiked enough to limbo under Alice Nine, clad in stylishly-cut silk suits, name cards at the ready. The better hosts in the club can stay in the room, but the newer ones are obligated to stand and allow the city lights take their hold on them as the customers' passing gazes strip them clean.

He doesn't have to look at them to know which ones will fail, of course. That loud one with the unibrow -Fuji could hear him three blocks away- he'll drop out soon enough, not just because he's ugly but because he's too impolite to his customers. So will the girl who's pretending to be a male host (she already looks tipsy from one glass of whiskey, and her breasts are too big—she'll be found out fast unless she learns how to tie a bind properly). The thirty-five year-old has a crooked tie, but he's still got a good chance because he treats his customers like members of his own family.

Fuji knows this world like the back of his hand, the one that the lights of the city will look down on, because he's been here for nearly nine months now, repaid all his student loans in five, and claimed the top of every menu in the DION Club for the rest of that time.

Standing on the corner, the boy looks completely misplaced. He's wearing a _business_ _suit_, for god's sake, and a girly necklace. He peers disinterestedly from the corners of his eyes at the crowd of women that are beginning to gather around him, and Fuji watches, with a little amused smile, how hard the boy is trying to conceal the fact that his teeth are chattering in the cold hard enough to knock over a building.

He recognizes Echizen from the television specials immediately, of course. The professional tennis prodigy who had gone down on his luck. The gossip columns were still hot with it—how he couldn't win a single match after a stray camera caught him with a can of beer. Echizen Ryoma. Underage and Under Going Quarter-Life Crisis?

And, unbeknownst to the rest of the public, billionaire CEO Atobe Keigo's dirty little secret.

"You're still underage, so I'd like you to be my Help," Fuji smiles, and he reaches down to place a hand on the shivering boy.

(And that is how he meets the Echizen boy, while Fuji Syuusuke is atop his throne as DION's Number One Host, in the center of the glass floor and the network of city spotlights.)

-H-

They are cracking open lobster shells in a backroom at DION when Atobe broaches the subject. Shiraishi, the owner of the place and Fuji's best friend by default, had misplaced the ice tongs for the wine bucket and so the two of them make do with metal forks. The front rooms are all empty at this hour, and while Shiraishi is wiping down the tables, they sit and talk in a booth that Atobe had shied away from the first time because it was too dirty and Unfit For Ore-sama. Atobe shifts uncomfortably when Fuji reaches over him to make a fast martini.

"Fuji," Atobe begins, and if he hadn't known better he would have mistaken Atobe Keigo for a caring and understanding person. "You shouldn't be having alcohol during the day."

"It's four 'o clock in the morning," Fuji says, because that is a perfectly valid excuse.

"You saw us. In the elevator. And you didn't say anything."

"I did not feel inclined to," Fuji says, taking a sip of his drink.

"Aren't you even the slightest bit emotional?" Atobe asks, and Fuji knows that he isn't expecting an affirmative answer.

"I don't particularly care what you want to do in your spare time, Atobe-_sama_, as long as I'm being paid for doing my job. It is of no concern to me, who you want to fuck," Fuji says smoothly, because he knows how Atobe Keigo likes to tip.

"Oh, you _are _angry!" Atobe crows, and it is the exact expression that Fuji expects that he will assume, "Ore-sama wouldn't want you to misunderstand."

"And why wouldn't I want to misunderstand?" Fuji asks, feigning innocence.

Atobe stares into his wine glass, gaze contemplative. "You know we're friends, right?"

"Friends?" Fuji laughs, "Wouldn't dream of it."

"I like you, Fuji."

"I am sure that you do."

"Won't you come work for ore-sama?"

"I'll become a salaryman as soon as you start borrowing money from the Domyouji Group."

Atobe ignores the jibe. "Give up on Tezuka."

Fuji says nothing and pours his customer a glass of French red wine.

Atobe kisses him later on, when he is sufficiently drunk at seven in the morning, and Fuji manages to convince himself for a moment that he could kiss Atobe back, but it only works for fifty-four seconds because he could never give up on Tezuka Kunimitsu, not in a million years and not until Tezuka himself told Fuji to, and Fuji is never going to give him the opportunity.

-H-

The door opens and Echizen Ryoma flies in, dripping bathwater and smelling like Fuji Syuusuke.

Atobe looks up from his newspaper. So they had finally announced it. "Why aren't you bleeding yet?"

"That's not funny," Ryoma says, wiping his eyes with his wrists.

"No, it isn't," Atobe smirks.

"Go to bed, Atobe."

"But you know what _is _funny?" Atobe continues, folding the newspaper back because he's not really in the mood for this. "How you keep saying you don't need me and how you keep ending up in my bed whenever Fuji Syuusuke starts treating you like shit."

"Shut up, Monkey King," Echizen snaps, "It's all your fault, you know."

Atobe laughs a creepy laugh, and Ryoma shrinks back a little.

"Echizen. Do you ever wonder why everyone loves Fuji Syuusuke so much?"

"Why?"

"It's because he isn't human. He belongs in a glass world that occasionally shines on ours. He doesn't feel any emotion, not for anyone. He's trapped in there, a perfect character in a perfect world. He never slips, never falls in love, never gets what we're talking about..."

"That's not true," Ryoma says defiantly, "He loves Tezuka Kunimitsu. He slipped up when he left Tezuka. He's dying from alcohol poisoning. He's _Fuji_ _Syuusuke_. You're just projecting your fantasy of Fuji onto a guy who isn't even there. I've seen a side of him that you could never imagine right now."

"Don't call me a _fanboy_," Atobe growls.

"Then stop talking to me like I'm your bitch."

-X-

Kikumaru invites Momoshiro out for drinks sometimes, when Fuji and Oishi and Kaidoh and Tezuka and Echizen and Kawamura and Inui forget about the two of them in their busy lives on the romantic side of town as cops and robbers, drinks that Eiji claims to be in honor of the remaining two members of a band formed a long time ago, to the two members who decided to abide by the laws of society and become steady-income office workers ascending the corporate ladder, complete with plastic name tags on lanyards and leather briefcases. They go to karaoke clubs sometimes, and not for the reason that the big stars on TV like to giggle about, but just because it's a place where Kikumaru can let his feelings run loose after a particularly-taxing meet-up with Fujiko.

Momo opens up their appointment with the same line every time.

"What did he do this time?"

"Fujiko broke up with buchou, but he keeps telling me that it's the other way around."

Momo orders two three-ounce bottles of brandy.

"Did Fuji dye his hair back from that blond color?"

"Nope."

Momo adds a four-ounce whiskey to his order.

"Oh, right! I saw something at work I wanted to show you, Eiji."

"I'm over that stuff about Abe Tsuyoshi." Eiji says, slumping down in his seat on the couch with a defeated sigh, "Ne, Momo, how much does this room cost again? I don't want to be kicked out like last time."

"Five-thousand yen, Kikumaru-senpai, because I asked for a non-smoker's. It's okay, I can afford it. As long as we don't subscribe to the newspaper delivery and cocktail menus. That's where they usually choke for money. And it's not about Abe Tsuyoshi today. He's over the whole Kikumaru Eiji thing, too."

Their liquor arrives (just in time), and a karaoke remote is passed into Momo's hand.

Eiji frowns and opens the bottle of gin. "As if Abe Tsuyoshi would ever remember me. And don't you _senpai_ me, Momo. We're splitting the bill."

Momoshiro selects an Arashi song. "But your wages are being cut already. I thought I could help out."

"And I was the one who treated you to all those hamburgers, too," Kikumaru takes a gulp of his drink, "You're putting me to shame. Anyway, as I was say—" He is cut short by the first bars of _Beautiful days._

"Oops," Momo turns the volume knob on the remote. "Too loud."

"That's an awful song," Kikumaru comments. "It's impossible to sing. Actually, the band sucks in general. Half of them are tone deaf and the leader always looks stoned in their music videos."

"Would you rather I play something Korean?" Momo raises his eyebrows.

Kikumaru groans. "If I hear SORRY, SORREEEE _one_ more time..."

Momoshiro hastily switches to an American song, "So, you were saying?"

Eiji sighs and relaxes in his seat. "Fujiko told me something about a glass floor some time ago. Something about people on either side of it. I wasn't paying much attention at the time, but there seemed to be some sort of significance to it."

"Does it have anything to do with this?" Momo asks, pulling out a newspaper from his briefcase. "I saw it at work today and it shocked me when I heard the female co-workers talking about." He hands the front page to Eiji, who reads it while _I make them good girls go ba-d~ _reverberates in the background.

"What do you think?"

"I hate irony," Kikumaru groans, "It ruins everything for all of us."

"We should be playing an Utada Hikaru song," Momo agrees, "Do you wanna sing Prisoner of Love together?"

-X-

"Ku-ra-kun."

"Don't call me that," Shiraishi says. He's up to his elbows in soap bubbles and dirty dishes of a half-finished seafood dinner. "And if you're just going to stand there, you might as well help out."

Fuji shakes his head, "I'm not staying for long after work hours. You've already sent half the customers in the place drooling over my shoulder for a good portion of the night."

Shiraishi chuckles. "You deserved it after you got me into the troublesome media attention with that politician's wife. What can I do for you today, Syuu-su-ke-kun?"

"I have one question for you," Fuji smiles as he pushes himself up to sit on the counter next to the sink, "it's about the new DION opening in the Ginza."

Shiraishi freezes. "How do you know about that?"

Well fuck. The Yamada woman had been right. "News travels fast, Shiraishi," Fuji says easily, head-down to hide his shock. He picks at an invisible spot of dirt on his suit and lifts his eyes slowly. "So who's the owner of the place? I want to work there."

"Y-You can't," Shiraishi mutters furiously, "Atobe wouldn't allow it."

...Atobe was in on it, too? The bastard. In a sudden movement, Fuji slides away from the counter and leans his chin forward to rest on top of Shiraishi's left shoulder, wrapping his arm around his waist in a strong grip. It's enough for the silver-haired man to tense beneath him like a wary animal. "You know this very well," he whispers in Shiraishi's ear, breath hot against his neck in the chilly air of the kitchen. "There are a lot of ways that I can make you talk. And honestly, I don't want to get my hands dirty right now, so you might as well tell me. Who's the owner of the new DION place? Why are we expanding into the Ginza?"

"It's Oshitari Yuushi's place for now and it was Atobe's idea," Shiraishi lets out in one breath, "But..."

"But?"

"But. Tezuka Kunimitsu is taking over in a week. He still doesn't know about your history in Roppongi. And..."

"And?" Fuji whispers, his grip slackening. It was Tezuka.

Shiraishi squirms out from Fuji's grasp and lands face-first in the sink. He picks himself up coughing, and points a shaky, soapy finger in the direction of an innocent newspaper rack sitting on the back table. "It's the one dated yesterday's. Front page. Go see for yourself, Fuji. And I hope you don't regret asking."

-H-

Fuji picks up on the second ring.

"Fuji-kun, it's Yamada."

"Ah. Yamada-san. How can I help you?"

"This is very sudden, but can we meet up?"

-X-

While it snows outside the café, Fuji starts wondering about the roads. They're rather quiet on this side of town. The Aoyama Cemetery kept most of the peace in the area, but the nights are as crowded as any other place inhabited by drunken men and scantily-dressed women. The roads they walk on are special, though; he just knows that they are. They turn into exotic materials beneath the feet of the right person, slippery mother-of-pearl and rich silk, the profound narcotic flavor of satin. Glass is the most distinct one, though, because it requires an effort to heat up from the little grains of sand. And those who can walk on the glass floor are different from the others, because they walk on the road for a process, not an experience. They don't walk for themselves.

(_"Because there's always someone waiting for you on the other side of the glass floor," Fuji said quietly._

_"What are you talking about, Fujiko?" Eiji yawned, "Let's go home, nya. It's starting to rain."_)

Yamada-san is a small woman with a shapely figure. She dresses smartly and only puts on a little lipstick. But it's from her eyes that Fuji can tell that she is a girl who can walk on glass.

"Fuji-san!" Yamada waves at him before sitting down on the other side of the café booth, "I knew from the start that you'd be a handsome guy. It's all in the way you speak."

Fuji smiles happily. Compliment well-placed. "Yamada-san, pleasure to finally meet you. How can I be of assistance?"

"Actually, I was wondering if I could get some relationship advice," Yamada looks down demurely at her watch, "It'll only take ten minutes. I'm going back to work in ten."

And in that instant, he knows who he's talking to.

"I guess that the only thing I can say…is that people all have pasts, Yamada-san. It's a part of the roads we walk on. We all do things we might be ashamed of, embarrassed about."

Yamada looks confused for a second before her face lights up like a Christmas display, and Fuji knows that he could never hate this woman.

-H-

He sees them a second time later on, kissing furiously and falling over each other trying to shed jackets and scarves on their way to the elevator. The kisses are just as crazed as before, just as beautiful and perfect to look at as before, and Fuji doesn't have to stop the elevator door for himself this time, because Echizen does it for him.

"It doesn't matter if I see or not, does it," Fuji says while the elevator doors close, and the two people continue to kiss, so he takes the answer to be a yes and he is suddenly very, very pleased.

"I'll be seeing you at work," he calls out cheerfully when they arrive at his floor, and Echizen and Atobe ignore him for a second round, but this time all he feels is a sharp, stifling loneliness.

(At home, he contemplates drinking the left-over beer in the fridge, but instead he goes online and purchases a Nakata Insurance plan, just for the hell of it.)

-T-

He decides to visit Tezuka and pretend that things are normal for one last time.

"I wonder if I could bleed diamonds," Fuji says while he puts the kettle on the stove, "What do you think, Tezuka?"

"Why are you here?"

"Answer my question and I'll answer yours."

"I would have to cut you open when times are tough, then," Tezuka replies without looking up from his book.

"You wouldn't," Fuji says, shocked, "But then again, I can see where you'd need it."

Tezuka sighs tiredly. "What's that supposed to imply?"

"Oh, nothing really," Fuji arranges the tea leaves in a diamond pattern inside the pot before turning to the newspaper he had been reading, "You planned from the start to hide this from me forever, right? So we shouldn't talk about it."

"Speak clearly, Fuji."

"This." He smiles triumphantly, and he shoves the newspaper under Tezuka's nose with a little laugh, "I think I'm the last person to know about this, so I might as well throw all of my cards down. The press-release was a nice touch, _Ku-chan_."

Tezuka reads the headlines and turns into a block of wood.

"I want a diamond ring, too," Fuji says dully, "God knows it'd probably look better on my hand than hers."

The kettle starts to whistle and water hisses over the iron burner, but neither of them pick it up. Fuji leaves from the front door. He should've been the one to walk out of Tezuka's life the first time.

He just wishes that it wouldn't hurt so much.

-T-

When Atobe strides into the office, Fuji takes Atobe by the arm. "DION in the Ginza? What are you thinking? The other host clubs are going to be onto you faster than a pack of wolves."

"It's for your own good," Atobe says after he makes sure that he and Fuji are alone in the room, "Because Tezuka does not need to have any more access to you."

"Thanks for caring," Fuji snaps, "But Tezuka's _fiancée_ didn't make a big fuss about it either, so it doesn't matter any more. I can do whatever the hell I want."

It takes Atobe a full minute to understand what Fuji's saying. The room is quiet for a beat. "So you know."

"So I know," Fuji repeats back.

"Does it hurt? It's my revenge, you know."

"I'm past it, Atobe."

"Aren't you jealous?"

"Of who?" Fuji laughs, "You, Tezuka, Echizen, who does it matter? Yamada-san's a lovely woman and an excellent telemarketer. _I_ would have gone out with her if Tezuka hadn't. You couldn't have picked a better candidate. As for you and Ryoma—well, it's just fucking, isn't it? I'm going home now."

-X-

Fuji picks up on the fifth ring.

"Fujiko!"

"I'm driving," he says to Eiji on the phone, "So you probably shouldn't bother me."

"Are you drinking?" Eiji asks.

"No I'm not," he says, taking a gulp from his whiskey flask.

"Yes you are, I can tell," Eiji sounds frantic, "I have something to say!"

Well, that's just great, Fuji's about to reply, but just then the road suddenly turns into glass.

People usually have this sort of crash during the night-time, don't they, he thinks before he hits the railing of the bridge.

-&HTX-

"Fujiko! Tezuka just called Atobe. He's not getting married anymore, ne. His fiancée figured out the stuff about DION, and she backed out because apparently the two of you have met before and related something about insurance policies that I didn't understand. Buchou couldn't find you anywhere after you deleted all your contact information from his records, but he says he wants to talk to you—Fujiko, are you listening? You know what this means, right? It took me some time to realize what you were talking about, but I get it now. The glass floor. There _is_ someone else standing on the other side. Are you listening? Fujiko? Fujiko!"

-THE END-


End file.
